Page 2 of Parentmoon

Dallas doesn’t flinch in surprise but slowly sets his whiskey glass back on the table. His calm demeanor suggests he already knows what’s coming, much like the racing of my heart anticipates their announcement. As a traditionalist, I’m hopeful Michael went to Dallas and asked for Keli’s hand.

Keli looks like the loosening cork on a champagne bottle, ready to pop. She flashes her left hand at her father and me, and I don’t know how I missed the solitaire rock on her finger when she walked in. “We’re getting married.”

I squeal in delight and reach for Michael, offering him an awkward hug as he sits perpendicular to me. Then I stand and round the table for Keli, who’d stood to embrace her father.

“So happy for you, baby girl,” Dallas mutters to her but loud enough I hear him.

After I hug Keli, excitement still courses through my body, so I reach out for Dallas. I’m a hugger by nature. I grip his shoulders and tug him toward me despite his larger stature, folding my arms around the bulge of his upper arms and pressing my hands to his shoulder blades. Dallas’s firm shoulders tighten and the powerful strength of him seeps through his suit jacket.

Well.

Immediately, I pull back and hold up my hands like he’s singed me. Or maybe it’s that my touch burned him. Keep your paws off the pretty merchandise. Dallas stares at me, his gaze latching onto mine. A celebratory hug was obviously a mistake, so I clasp my hands before me, tucking them beneath my chin.

Averting my eyes, I mutter, “Congratulations, Dallas.”

“Darlin’,” he grumbles.

However, Mister No Hugs will not dampen my delight. Once I return to my seat, I immediately jump into questions for the engaged couple.

Have they set a date? Where did they want to get married? How many people are they thinking?

Keli glows with excitement.

Michael watches her like she lifts the sun every day.

And the two of them answer me.

They want to marry next March in Chicago with a small and intimate ceremony.

It sounds lovely.

Keli’s enthusiasm grows with each additional detail, and Michael beams at her, his expression saying he hopes to give her everything she wants. All the while, I sneak peeks at Dallas who becomes quieter and quieter throughout our meal. His eyes wander away from the table to the waitress who served us and a woman standing near the bar. Leaning her side against the dark wood, she’s staring in the direction of our table.

Eventually, Dallas rises from his seat. “If you’ll excuse me. I see someone I know.”

“Daddy?” Keli’s brows deeply crease as Dallas leans toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Disappointment fills her bright face. This dinner has been important to her. My future daughter-in-law and I are close, and she assured me her father is a kind and generous man who loves her more than anything. According to her, I’d love him.

So far, I’m not impressed.

We were just about to order dessert, because a sweet treat is definitely in order for this evening’s celebration.

“Nothing for you?” I question, tipping my head toward the square menu with the restaurant’s delicacies.

“Watching my figure,” Dallas smirks, placing a hand on the belly I noted earlier was solid and firm. He stares at me, eyes lowering to my mouth once more before glancing away. I follow his gaze and note his observation of the woman still leaning against the bar, her backside now pointed in our direction.

Perhaps Dallas has other plans for dessert tonight. The envious assumption and rash accusation is petty. I have nothing to be jealous about. If he wants to pick up a random woman in a bar, a woman I’m certain he does not recognize, that’s his choice.

Still, I don’t care for the concerned look on Keli’s face. Her gaze follows her father’s arm as he reaches across the table to Michael, offering him a firm handshake.

“Take care of my baby girl,” he teasingly warns, already knowing that Michael dotes on Keli.

“I can leave with you.” Keli’s suggestion is full of hesitation. Reading her thoughts, she doesn’t want to leave and she’s questioning her father’s abrupt exit.

“No,” Dallas softly addresses her. “Stay. Have dessert. Another drink. Revel in the love.” He holds out his pinky finger to her and she slowly lifts her hand to hook her little finger with his, shaking their joined hands once before breaking apart.

Then Dallas turns to me. “Jo.” My name is curt and gruff, as if he’s been offended in some way by me.

I don’t see how I could have possibly insulted him. He’s the one who was watching my mouth and calling me darlin’ when dinner started. Now, he’s off to make an acquaintance with the woman at the bar.